


Drabbles - A Treasury of Harmony

by Stargon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29019450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stargon/pseuds/Stargon
Summary: My collection of the bimonthly Two Hundred Word Drabbles challenge from the H/HR - H.M.S Harmony discord server. A new prompt every fortnight. (Note - all of my stories are over the 200 word goal but under 750 words).
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19
Collections: HMS Harmony Discord Drabbles





	1. The Locked Cupboard

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Hermione finds out about the Dursley's abuse.

Fourteen people in a kitchen does not leave much room and Hermione quickly found herself backed into the hallway.

Harry’s home. She’d always wondered what it was like. He never spoke much about it. Not really. The only impression she’d ever gotten was that he didn’t like it. Nor his relatives.

Her ruminations were interrupted by the strangest sight: the door to the cupboard under the stairs was locked. With a padlock, no less. Who locks a cupboard like that?

Once upon a time, Hermione’s law-abiding nature overruled her curiosity. Not anymore. Not for a long time.

“ _Alohomora!”_

Quietly, she eased the door open. What she found was … an old bed with a ripped, frayed blanket? It was small, tiny, perhaps for an animal, a dog or cat maybe?

Something scratched on the walls caused her to not only frown but to also light her wand.

_A birthday cake with four candles._

_Crude letters that formed the alphabet._

_Harry’s room._

She gasped, her mind instantly putting all the facts together to form a picture that she did not like. Not in the slightest. It all made sense now. The way Harry never initiated contact; the way he stiffened and flinched when anyone touched him, including Ginny when they were dating no matter how much he tried to hide it.

Well, not quite anyone. He accepted her hugs. Had since the end of second year. But only hers.

“Hermione!”

Snapping the door shut, she focused on the mission ahead; the rest, Harry, she’d puzzle out later.


	2. Kitchen Delights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sugary sweetness. (a self prompt to wash away the angst-ridden drabble that had originally been written that day)

Hermione paused in the doorway, leaning on the frame, a small, contented smile on her lips.

Harry was in his element. A mixing bowl was tucked under one arm, the spoon in his hand doing its job. Ingredients were everywhere and he was happily humming away to himself.

“You remember my parents are coming, don’t you?”

Harry looked up at her, smiling, his brilliant green eyes blazing with mischief.

“Of course. If I remember rightly, I invited them.”

A casual wave of her hand indicated the bench where his finished creations already lay spread out under charms to keep them fresh and at the right temperature. Chocolate crackles. Fairy bread. Soft ANZAC biscuits. Miniature pies and sausage rolls. The plates just kept coming.

Harry’s eyes followed her hand and his eyes sparkled. “Well, it is your parent’s fault. Or yours.”

“Mine! How is it all that sugar my fault?” Hermione asked indignantly.

“You, my dear gorgeous brilliant wife,” Harry said, slowly walking towards her, “sent your parents to Australia where I discovered all of these wonderful delicacies.”

He finished with scooping up a blob of cake mix on his finger and touching it to her lips. She couldn’t resist but to part her lips, allowing him to place it inside her open mouth.

“Delicious,” she smiled.

“Is it?” he asked, his eyes alight. “As the cook, I should probably sample too.”

She watched as he scooped up another blob. But instead of bringing his finger to his mouth, he swiped it across her lips. Then, before she could react, his mouth, his tongue was there. Her eyes closed and she responded to his kiss. Not that he stayed there long. Once the batter was gone, he moved on, across her jawline, nibbled tenderly on her lobe before descending to her neck.

“Harry,” she gasped.

“Mmm?” he replied as he found that spot that he knew she especially liked.

“You do know that this is what brought today about, don’t you?” she managed.

“You mean we can make more days like this?” he asked and she could feel the smile as he nibbled at her.

The slightest of noises alerted her to the fact that they were about to be interrupted. Thankfully and obviously very reluctantly on both their parts, Harry lifted his head just as a small missile burst through the kitchen door. Without pausing, the girl with the long, bushy hair and green eyes that sparkled just like her father’s, changed directly before slamming into the two of them, her tiny arms stretched out and around them both.

“Happy birthday, gorgeous!” Harry exclaimed as he reached down with his free hand to hoist their daughter up to join them.

Hermione didn’t miss the glint in her husband’s eye though. This morning was already wonderful, the day filled with celebration and party would be a joy but tonight, tonight would be something else indeed.


	3. A Single Rose

_Riiiinnggg!_

As with the other two times since he’d pressed the doorbell, Harry waited. This time, his acute anxiety was being washed away with a feeling of forlornness. No one, it seemed was going to answer him.

She wasn’t home. He’d come all this way…

Quickly, he thrust his free hand into his pocket and brought out the scrap of parchment that he’d torn from his Transfiguration notebook. Nineteen Bravehurt Way. This was definitely the house.

Maybe he should have called ahead? But as quickly as the thought formed, Harry brushed it away. He’d wanted to surprise her, do this in person. And besides, after his stop at the florist, it wasn’t like he could call from Privet Drive nor had he any money to spare.

His eyes fell to the single rose in his hand. Initially, he’d wanted a dozen red roses to give her. What little muggle money he had squashed that idea. A single rose was all he could afford but looking at the one that he’d chosen … the corners of his mouth curved up. Yes, this one was perfect. Mostly deep red with swirls of off-white on some petals, enhanced by a dusting of sparkling gold powder courtesy of the florist herself.

A noise, the scraping of the gate from down the path behind him had him turning. And there she was. Hermione. As beautiful as ever. Her hair wasn’t quite as frizzy and bushy now at sixteen as it was when she was eleven and wearing normal clothes had him appreciating the woman that she was becoming all the more. Consequently, his mouth instantly dried, the excess moisture pooling between his shoulder blades, under his arms and on his palms.

“Harry?” she asked, her chocolate eyes searching his face before dropping to rove over the rest of him, more than likely to see if he was hurt in some way.

He knew the instant that she saw the rose; her body stilled, her eyes froze before snapping back to his eyes. The smallest of smiles that appeared on her face gave him the courage that he needed.

“Hi Hermione,” he began.


	4. Unexpected Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: September 19th IS Hermione's birthday!

The time from first waking to leaning over the toilet could have been measured in nanoseconds. The fact that she apparated greatly helped.

Halfway through washing her face, Hermione stopped, peering into the mirror. Water was dripping from her chin and her eyes were bloodshot but she didn’t feel any different. Slowly, she bent her head and spat.

Twenty-one.

No, she definitely didn’t feel any different being a year older.

Her nose wrinkled at the taste in her mouth. Not pleasant and unfortunately her wand was in the other room. Thankfully, Harry had a knack not only for wandless magic but also for teaching. A quick charm later and her mouth was minty fresh.

Worse was the knowledge that today was just the first day of waking up like this for who knows how long.

“Happy birthday to me,” she muttered.

Walking back into the bedroom, her eyes focussed on the empty bed. A slight clattering sound drew her eyes to the left. The kitchen, she decided, _not_ outside in the rest of Diricawl. And knowing Harry …

Quickly, she crossed the room and climbed back into bed. The covers had barely been pulled back up before the man, her man, appeared in the doorway.

He was so handsome, there was no denying it. The scars on his face and his slightly different coloured arm couldn’t detract from the messy hair, sparkling emerald green eyes and that adorable lopsided grin.

“Happy Birthday, Gorgeous!”

“Thank you, Harry,” she smiled.

Suddenly, her stomach roiled. Her eyes froze on the tray in Harry’s hand, breakfast (eggs benedict, by the look of it), a single red rose in a vase and a small pile of presents on one side. He was probably feeling quite pleased by the fact that he could _carry_ a tray again after four years of only having one hand, but the _smell_!

Her hand whipped out to the nightstand, fumbled with her wand for an instant, grabbed it and twirled it around her head.

“Hermione?” Harry asked, obviously confused by the fact that she’d just cast a bubble-head charm on herself.

She hadn’t planned to tell him today but what was a birthday for if not for presents? Admittedly, being her birthday, she should be the one getting the presents but then again, seeing the look on his face …

“Hermione’s secret can be found on her nightstand,” she said.

She laughed, she couldn’t help it; the morph of confusion into astonishment on Harry’s face was comical as the small stick appeared.

“Fidelius?”

She nodded as she picked the stick up and held it out for him.

Carefully, he placed the tray down before sliding onto the bed beside her and taking the stick. She watched his eyes intently.

Confusion.

Dawning realisation.

Disbelief.

Belief.

Happiness.

Burning unbridled joy.

“Hermione?” he asked, his eyes fixed on hers.

For an instant, his face blurred through her own tears of happiness.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Yes, Harry. We’re going to have a baby.”


	5. Felix Knows What He's Doing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Where Hermione consumes Felix Felicis so she could finally beat Harry in a duel... but her luck leads to other things.

As she stepped through the door, Hermione looked around. Really, she had no idea _what_ she was going to find. Asking the Room of Requirement for a place to duel immediately after taking a sip of _felix felicis_ was always going to produce unexpected results.

But this?

A familiar cliff edge lined one side. Rocks and ruins filled the remaining space. There were fallen columns, half walls and stone stairs. Really, all that was missing was the Dread Pirate Roberts and she’d have the setting of one of her favourite films.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Harry asked. “You do know that you don’t have to be the best at everything, right?”

Looking over her shoulder, she saw the lop-sided grin which told her that he was just playing.

“What’s the matter, Potter? Scared?” she retorted.

“Oh, we’re channelling our inner Malfoy today, are we?” he laughed. “Well, two can play at that game. This setting is repulsive to me. No, we shall fight on the Astronomy tower at midnight or my father will hear about it!”

A laugh burst from her at his ridiculousness. He could be so adorable at times, not that she’d ever tell him that.

“No, my dear Harry, it’s here and now,” she replied. “Are you ready?”

His drawing his wand and shifting his feet slightly in the dirt was enough of an answer.

Instantly, her own wand was up and weaving a pattern that allowed her to spit a series of five curses at him.

The first two, he dodged. The third and fourth he batted away. The last, though, that caught him a glancing blow. Well, the leg of his pants was hit. Which was enough, considering that it was a shrinking charm.

Not that she was certain why she fired that one, all it did was make his pants skintight, outlining the swell of his thighs and calves exceptionally well.

Either way, it gave her time to race up the nearby stone stairs two at a time. Everyone knew that the advantage always went to whoever controlled the high ground.

Unfortunately for Hermione, _Felix_ must have been having an off day for, part way up, she tripped, stumbled and plunged over the side.

She’d barely had time to shriek before a pair of strong arms caught her around the waist. Not that it did much other than cause both of them to crash into the ground.

Hermione lifted her head from Harry’s chest and flicked her hair back. She really wasn’t sure if it was the fall or the intensity of his emerald eyes that caused her breath to catch.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she told him.

It was only then that she realised that she was currently sitting straddled on a very intimate part of her best friend and that the reduction spell on his pants was doing very little to help.

The slight shifting of his hands and particularly the feel of his wand on her hip reminded her that they’d been duelling. Quickly, she reached down, grabbed both of his hands and lifted them over his head.

“Do you yield?” she asked, not letting go of his hands and allowing her full weight to press down on him.

“And if I do, what do you win?” he asked.

For the life of her, she had no idea what made her say what she said next, all she knew was that it felt _right._

“You.”

“In that case, I yield,” he replied instantly.

And then his head was rising to meet her and her eyes closed exactly as his lips joined with hers.

Maybe _Felix_ did know what he was doing after all.


	6. Learning Can Be Rewarding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Harry teaching Hermione how to ride a broom. Either during Hogwarts or post-Hogwarts!

“Hermione, it’s time.”

Reluctantly, she looked up at him. He was right, damn him! Worse still, he knew it. It was a skill that she was sadly lacking in and the simple fact was, they were in a war and lack of knowledge could get her killed. Or worse, _him_ killed.

“You’re sure that thing’s safe?” she asked.

Harry looked down at the broom in his hand, trophy of a brief, chaotic battle with some Snatchers the previous week.

“It’s a Nimbus 2000, Hermione. If you remember, once upon a time I had one myself.”

Just the thought of Harry on his broom, flying crazily all over the quidditch pitch was enough to have her shivering in fright.

“Please. For me?” he asked, giving her that pouty look of his, emerald eyes sparkling with inner mischief that she couldn’t resist.

“You’re right,” she sighed. “And when have I ever been afraid of learning something?”

“Brilliant! That’s the spirit, Hermione,” he beamed. “And I promise that there’ll be no tricks or flying too high or anything dangerous at all. Plus, I’ll give you any reward you want after you’re learnt how to fly properly.”

“Any reward?” she asked, her mind flying at the possibilities.

“You know I’d do anything for you, Hermione,” Harry replied. “You’re my best friend.”

He would, too, she knew.

Inwardly, she smirked. Maybe she could _finally_ get him to realise that they could be more than best friends?

And then her mind settled on just the thing: a full body massage. To get the kinks out after all these months roughing it, of course. Now the only question was: clothed or _sans_ clothes? Hermione almost snorted. There was certainly only one answer to _that_ question!

“Okay, Harry, teach me how to fly your broom,” she smiled.


	7. Sleep Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Harry and Hermione are both convinced the other does not see them in a romantic light, but one day when the other is sleeping, one hears the other mumble a name in their sleep - their name.

“Her-mi-nee.”

The girl in question looked up from the book that she was reading. The word was mumbled but clearly her own.

“Harry?” she questioned.

Unfortunately, there was no response. Unsurprising, really, considering his injuries. Honestly, she’d expected him to be completely unconscious for at least another six to eight hours. But then, when did Harry ever do the expected?

“Hermione.”

It was clearer this time.

“I’m here, Harry,” she reassured him. “You’re not alone. You’ll be okay. I promise.”

He was still unconscious, of that there was no doubt but the fact that he settled at her words, even a small smile appearing, told her that he must have heard. With that in mind, she picked up his hand and held it tightly between both of hers. Instantly, he sighed.

“I’m okay. Hermione promised,” he murmured sleepily. “Trust Hermione. Love Hermione.”

This time it was Hermione’s turn to gasp.

_Love_ Hermione?

She searched his face but it was still, complete with that smile. He was definitely asleep and obviously completely unaware of what he was saying.

But ‘love Hermione’? He couldn’t? Could he?

She’d been wanting to hear him say that for years; it’d almost become a fairy-tale, a never-would. But if Harry loved her … that changed _everything!_

Why though, she wondered, why hadn’t he ever expressed it or told her?

The answer was obvious: Ron. Ron and Harry’s own pig-headed stubborn nobleness. There was just one problem there: Hermione had no real interest in Ronald Weasley. She’d tried, oh how she’d tried, but that was only because she thought her own love was unrequited. But if it wasn’t …

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the boy, man in the bed. Harry loved her, that much was now known to her, even if he didn’t realise that she knew. A grin slowly spread on her face. Starting tomorrow, she’d teach Harry exactly how to express his feelings and she knew just how to start.


	8. Desirable Number One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Harry: "Hey, look, I'm Undesirable Number One." Hermione, scoffing: "What a load of rubbish. You're very desirable."

Desirable Number One

A newspaper unexpectedly appearing beside his elbow had Harry jumping.

“Thank you, Kreacher.”

“Master Harry is welcome.”

Harry paused, but no slurs came – the ancient elf had changed since they’d given him Regulus’ locket.

Picking up the paper, he blanched – looking back at him, taking up the entire front page. was his own picture! And above it, the words: Undesirable Number One.

“What was that Harry?” Hermione asked from the other side of the table.

Harry tore his gaze from his picture to look at his best friend. “What?”

“You said something?” she prompted.

“I did?” he asked before looking at the paper once more. “I’m on the front page of the _Prophet._ They’re calling me ‘ _Undesirable Number One’_.”

“Harry. I’ve told you to stop reading that thing. All they do is lie!”

“Undesirable Number One, Hermione,” Harry said, turning the paper so she could see.

“That’s bollocks, Harry,” she scoffed. “You’re very desirable.”

Harry’s brain all but shut down as he stared at her. “What?”

“You heard me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is this like last year when you said that I was ‘fanciable’? ‘Cause you know that that was bollocks, too. I didn’t exactly have girls chasing me, did I?”

“You had Ginny,” she remarked.

“You know she only wanted the Boy-Who-Lived. Always did. I only went out with her to see if it was more than that. It wasn’t.”

“Still, Harry, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re extremely fanciable. And desirable,” she insisted.

“Says who?” he challenged.

“Well, me for one,” she replied, a tinge of pink in her cheeks.

Harry stared at his best friend. Could she really feel that way about him? Taking a breath, he decided to jump in the deep end.

“Hermione, I think that, of the two of us, _you’re_ the one that’s fanciable, desirable and breathtakingly beautiful.”

This time it was her turn to stare. “You really mean that, Harry?”

“I do.”

“About time,” a crotchety voice grumbled. “Just hurry up and kiss already. Kreacher is trying to make breakfast for Master and Miss.”

Who was Harry to argue with the elf? Within seconds, he was out of his chair, around the table and had his lips pressed against hers.


End file.
